


When Can We Go Home?

by why_didnt_i_get_any_soup



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Introspection, M/M, Oral Sex, Paris (City), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sex, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 21:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup/pseuds/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup
Summary: Steve and Sam are in the mire, in the line of fire, and they’ve been away from home for a long time. Sam isn’t even sure he really has a home at this point since he put most of his things into a storage unit and sold the rest along with his apartment. Now, they’re on the hunt for the Winter Soldier and it feels more like a wild goose chase than it ever did before. Yet, they have each other and somehow that’s the most comforting thing of all.





	When Can We Go Home?

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by "The Classic™: The hotel only has a king sized bed, I guess we’re sharing" and the quote ["Can we please stop pretending we’re all not about to die?"](http://putthepromptsonpaper.tumblr.com/post/163817665211/can-we-please-stop-pretending-were-all-not-about%20). Had a lovely partner in [andonedayshewillexplode](http://andonedayshewillexplode.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. She made an awesome playlist that you can listen to on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/embed?uri=spotify%3Auser%3A11130136781%3Aplaylist%3A4iaaRWoC7Pdap6Mnyebypl) or on [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqWdvu_14zpDyWA-aJvBqc4iJYwbN_zo5)!

Steve bleeds. Of course he does. But he heals just as quickly as his skin splits. So, it’s more prudent to focus on Sam, if anything  _ does  _ happen. Mostly the lightweight Stark Tech armor shields him from the worst of it, but he does have some parts—his arms and face— exposed. Even with the shoulder protections, he’s had so many dislocated shoulders from falls and hits.

 

They hadn’t really expected to get into quite so many scrapes, but they just  _ happened  _ in the wake of the Winter Soldier. There is always devastation, destruction, trailing behind him like……….what trails?? lmao, and they always seem to get there just a hair too late. Those left alive still somehow have fight left in them. It always pisses Sam off because they are tight-lipped and angry about the Winter Soldier by the time the two of them show up.

 

When they pull up to the hotel in Uzbekistan in the little sedan that Sam is not too sure how Steve had actually acquired, Sam can’t help speaking up about something that has been on his mind for weeks now.

 

“Can we stop pretending that we’re getting anywhere with this Winter Soldier business? That we’re not gonna die, the longer we are out here?” he isn’t looking at Steve in the driver’s seat, but Steve is still quiet.

 

He sighs and it goes unspoken. They both  _ know  _ why they’re there, sneaking their gear around from hotel to hotel to safe house to hotel around the United States and in foreign countries where neither of them knows the language. But the thing Sam is saying, the thing that he’s suggesting, is that they go  _ home _ , that they give up. The question is whether or not they can give up. Because Sam said he would go where Steve goes, but they’ve been going—almost a year—and nothing. All they are is tired and slightly battered.

 

“Bucky…” Steve finally says, but he doesn’t continue.

 

Sam gets it; that was Steve’s only real friend, his lifeline, and Steve is clinging desperately to the past, hoping things will go back to what they were. Sam has wanted to say it before and never has. It’s...not his place, but he wants to slap Steve around a little to wake him up.

 

“It’s different,” he says, letting the weight of it remain taciturn. Steve knows; Sam knows he knows. 

 

“He’s not going to be the same. There’s no way for him to be the same. But that doesn’t mean I want to give up on him.”

 

Sam sighs. “I’m not asking you to give up on him. But...we have to think, at this point, maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

 

Steve sighs too. He knows that Sam is right and Sam knows that Steve knows it. This is about as much as they’ve talked about the subject since the whole trip started. It has been a lot of silence and podcasts...to try and fill the silence. But as time went on, they started to talk more, settle into each other and learn their quirks. They really fell into a routine, knowing when they were waking, making plans to get to the next place. It is all on the government’s dime, money Nick Fury was helping them get through various...less than legal means. Steve still isn’t any kind of wiz at computers so Sam winds up doing a lot of the communications and trades through bitcoins and other currency, trading and selling laptops and other devices to avoid tracing. He hasn’t been in regular contact with his mom since Christmas.

 

Right now, while they’re not making eye contact, Sam has a wad of Uzbekistani soʻms in his pocket and he’s thinking about the colors, beautiful reds and blues, and how they compare to the dozens of other types of currencies they’ve handled over the past year. If nothing else, he has gotten to travel and experience parts of the world he never thought he would, especially post-Soviet states. It hasn’t all been business, especially when they trail had gone cold for a while and the Winter Soldier managed to not get into too many fights. But really, it seems like the longer they’re after him, the smarter he’s getting. Maybe he’s remembering. And if he is, that means he’s intentionally avoiding Steve.

 

“Look, man,” Sam says, and he hates that he’s essentially giving Steve some sort of ultimatum but it is happening, “I haven’t seen my mom in a year and I miss having a reliable bed and steady work. Don’t mean I don’t want to keep doing Avengers stuff...but I think maybe it’s time to go home.”

 

He avoids the use of the phrase “time for me to go home” because he wants to include Steve in that. Sam isn’t even sure he really has a home at this point since he put most of his things into a storage unit and sold the rest along with his apartment.

 

“Where will you go?” Steve asks, and there is no mistaking the desperation and hurt in his voice.

 

“I dunno,” Sam shrugs one of his shoulders and doesn’t look at Steve. He supposes there is space with Tony, but Sam hasn’t officially been asked to join the Avengers so...maybe he can stay with his mom for a while, just to get back on his feet. “My mom’s maybe.”

 

“You can...” Steve starts and stops, almost like he’s rethinking it but then presses forward, “you can always stay with me.”

 

Then, Sam’s eyes snap up to Steve’s. There is real earnestness there, in his gaze, in his demeanor, and they hold eye contact for a few, tense seconds. There is something unspoken in what Steve has offered, beyond a place to crash, beyond a roof over his head. He is offering companionship, support, an opportunity to build something together. And Sam is almost positive he isn’t misinterpreting that. But, the off chance that he might be is what causes him to hesitate for a second. Then, he presses forward.

 

“Thank you,”is all he manages at first, then he realizes something. “Wait. Do you even still have a place to stay?” Sam fixes him with what he hopes is his interrogation face. 

 

Steve smirks. “Not necessarily in New York, but I have some options.”

 

Still sounds pretty impermanent, fleeting. But ever since Steve Rogers came crashing into his life, Sam has started to learn that the rest of his life is probably going to be like that. That he can’t just walk away from the life he’s been thrust into. He looks at people like Nick Fury, Natasha, Clint, and knows that this isn’t the kind of thing you get out of. Even when you say you’re retiring, even when you have a family to go back to. That can be home but it’s temporary. That can be taken away, at any moment. Maybe………...home is in other people? He’s heard that before but it always sounded cliche, fake, but now that he thinks about it—thinks back on the past year—he suspects it might be true. And, maybe Steve is his home.

 

“Thanks, Steve.”

 

“Any time, Sam.”

 

It has been a long day and both of them are tired so it’s not exactly surprising when, after a particularly long silence during which neither are sure what to do, Steve sighs and acquiesces.

 

“Okay,” he says.

 

“Okay?” Sam asks, not sure what it is specifically Steve is referring to.

 

“Okay, let’s go home.”

 

They fly from Tashkent to Istanbul to Berlin to Paris. The last one is just for fun. Steve has never been before, and Sam wants to stop and show Steve the city and maybe actually enjoy the city for a few days before going back to the States.

 

“What’s your favorite place here?” Steve asks when they exit the airport.

 

Sam laughs. “There’s a little cafe, I think you might like. I’ll have to try to find it again. But that’s what these magic machines are for.” He gestures to the smartphone he got off the black market in Germany.

 

“I’m just glad the big things are still here. When the Nazis invaded…” Steve trails off and Sam knows he doesn’t mean to get morose but the second World War is still a huge part of Steve’s reality, even if it’s been so long in the consciousness of everyone else.

 

“Amen,” says Sam as they enter the subway and try to buy tickets with their limited French.

 

…

 

They decide to spring for a nice hotel, even for just one night. And it  _ is  _ expensive. Very expensive. So Sam decides they’re going to live it up.

 

“How about tonight, we order in? Have some fancy French food for dinner and some champagne on ice? Then, tomorrow we see if we can find my little spot.” Sam suggests as they haul their things up into the cramped elevator.

 

“That sounds perfect.” Steve smiles a big bright smile, even though he looks exhausted.

 

They had slept in the airport and, now that they’re slowing down, Sam realizes he’s sore all over. He felt as exhausted as Steve looked, but he was determined to enjoy himself in this fancy French hotel with a view of the Eiffel Tower. If nothing else, they can get drunk and pass out.

 

When they get into the room, they set their stuff down, claiming the separate beds, Steve walks over to the terrace behind the sliding glass doors right away. The summer months have ended and the temperature is starting to dip now that the sun is dropping behind the horizon, though the tower in the distance is still visible, dull and metallic.

 

“I thought it’d be prettier.” Steve says, standing out on the terrace, leaning against the railing just a little.

 

It makes Sam nervous. He’s seen Steve walk off too many roofs and cliffs or out of planes and helicopters. But Steve doesn’t move.

 

“Parisians hated it, you know? They tried really hard to get rid of it and it was so close to getting torn down but the engineer figure out a way to make it useful for its height. He attached a radio antenna on the top and they used it during World War One.” Sam says, pulling random knowledge out of his brain. He’s good at that.

 

Steve turns to him, delighted. “I didn’t know that,” he admits, “but I’m glad to know it now.”

 

“Glad to help.” Sam claps and rubs his hands together. “Now, I’m hungry. Let’s get us some food.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Steve agrees.

 

…

 

They wind up tired and sated from amazing steaks and a few other things Sam doesn’t even really want to know about but sounded fancy, lounging on the chaise set up in a living area space in their suite. It’s big and comfortable and they’re watching an American movie dubbed in a French, but it’s an action flick they’ve both seen a million times. Sam is drowsy but he’s not exactly about to fall asleep. Steve, on the other hand, is leaning over with his head on Sam’s shoulder.

 

It’s a show of intense trust and vulnerability that Sam almost balks at for a second but then stops allowing himself to freaking out. He already knows Steve cares for him, trusts him, admires him. It’s no secret. So, it should not come as a surprise that this is happening. Yet, he still can’t quite believe the man is real—not because he’s Captain America but because he’s a real flesh and blood human who seems to really care about Sam. That is so rare for anyone to experience that it’s hard to believe it even when it’s really happening.

 

Instead of fighting with himself more, he closes his eyes, hoping he’ll fall asleep. After a nebulous and indeterminate amount of time, he is asleep.

 

…

 

Sam wakes up when Steve starts moving around. They’re tangled up a little and their clothes are weirdly twisted, making it hard to arrange themselves. However, Steve doesn’t seem to be in some kind of hurry to get away from Sam; he’s just trying to get himself straightened out.

 

“Pretty wild night, last night, huh?” Sam jokes, very aware of how close he is to Steve’s face and their breath on each other.

 

Steve, for his part, immediately bursts out laughing. Sam is not really sure why. It was a joke, but it wasn’t all that funny.

 

“What?” Sam asks, trying not to feel awkward at the proximity of Steve’s eyes to his own.

 

“My neck hurts like crazy and I know it’s not from anything fun. The joke just...struck me.” He starts off smiling but by the end of the sentence he looks...mesmerized by Sam’s eyes, his own flicking back and forth to looks both eyes, they were that close.

 

_ Oh _ .

 

Suddenly, Steve shifts and gets off the chaise, leaving Sam colder than he expected. It was almost a moment, and Sam is disappointed Steve broke it up but he understands why if it was awkward.

 

“I’m brushing my teeth.” Steve calls, and that makes sense.

 

“I guess I should too.” Sam agrees and reluctantly gets up, straightening his bed clothes and grabbing his toothbrush.

 

They’re silent as they brush but Sam is still pretty drowsy, so he goes to lay on one of the completely pristine, luxurious beds with his legs still hanging off one side. He relishes just a little that he’s rumpling the cream colored linens.

 

“Too bad we didn’t get to use these beds. They’re really comfortable.” He tells Steve.

 

“Maybe we can use them now.” Steve says, sounding completely innocent.

 

Sam had no idea what Steve had in mind until he cracks open one eye and sees Steve there, hovering over him with a ravenous look on his face.

 

“Woah, buddy. You okay there, Stevie?”

 

Steve nods, biting his lip. “Can I...can I touch you?”

 

And woah, that sends a stab of excitement through Sam’s gut. He’s so stunned that he can’t speak, but he nods his consent.

 

Steve’s hands are immediately on him, sliding up his torso as he leans down on the bed with one knee between Sam’s legs. His hands go up to the sides of Sam’s face and then, full body, he’s kissing Sam. It’s not the best kiss in the world, clearly not super practiced, but Sam takes over and shows him what he wants and likes. Steve sort of takes the hint but, to be honest, Sam is relishing the feeling of the pressure of lips against his own and a body above his.

 

“Is this okay?” Steve checks in, and Sam can’t help but chuckle at how polite he is, even now.

 

“Yes. More than okay.” Sam assures him by placing his hands on Steve’s ass.

 

Steve moans and that gets Sam’s cock stirring. Then, Steve moves his mouth down to Sam’s neck and sucks for a while while one hands starts traveling down, landing on Sam’s peck. The motion of Steve’s hand there feels a little like what you might do to a breast and Sam can’t help but laugh a little at that. He’s imagining probably the only person he’s had sex with is Peggy and Sam knows for a fact that Peg damn well showed Steve what she liked. At that, Sam pulls Steve’s hips down toward his and grinds against him a little.

 

Steve moans at that and Sam is sure he’s getting Steve going. He’s not sure what’s going to happen here but he’s not thinking too far ahead, just trying to get a little friction. But then, Steve pulls away. Sam wants to ask him why but things become pretty apparent when he starts trying to undo Sam’s pants and also pull of Sam’s shirt at the same time. Sam takes over pulling off his shirt for Steve and lets him focus on the pants and underwear.

 

When he’s fully undressed, he’s not completely hard but Steve isn’t deterred. He starts pumping Sam’s cock, not too roughly, but it gets him fully there. Sam is suspended in anticipation, not sure what Steve is trying to do here, but then Steve is leaning down and his mouth is around Sam’s cock. Holy fuck. It’s been almost two years since he’s had sex with anyone other than his own hand and he can already feel his body coming alive with the touch of someone else, especially someone he cherishes so much.

 

The blowjob itself isn’t especially skilled but it feels good and it gets Sam there. When Sam tries to return the favor, Steve refuses. Instead, he jerks himself off and Sam almost gets hard again watching that. Then, cum on his chest, he flops on the bed next to Sam and just holds him, breathing in their shared space and stroking his skin. It’s...so nice. Nicer than he ever expected. Then, in the silence, after Steve has caught his breath, he speaks up.

 

“Oh. Sam?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Happy birthday.”

 

“Birthday?”

 

“It’s September. You really think I spent all this time with you and didn’t learn your birthday?”

 

“To be fair, I don’t remember yours…” Sam trails off, and Steve gives him a withering look. Then it dawns on him.

 

“Oh! Right. Fourth of July. Duh.”

 

Steve snorts a laugh at that. “Yes. So, did you know it was close to your birthday when you asked to go home?”

 

“To be honest, this whole year has really thrown me off. I barely even know what day of the week it is.”

 

“I think it’s Tuesday,” Steve guesses, “so, you make a fair point.”

 

“Thank you.” Sam says. “And I have to admit, of all the ways to spend my birthday, I’m glad it was here with you.”

 

“Me too.” Steve smiles with his hand on Sam’s neck. It’s so sweet and comfortable. “Maybe after a nap, we go find your little cafe.”

 

“Sounds good.” Sam smiles, closing his eyes.


End file.
